Ganieda
by Juliana Brandagamba
Summary: This is the sequel to Her Insatiable Thirst. We follow Ganieda to Camelot, where she has less of a happy time than she had expected. One of her greatest problems is the presence of Morgana's ex-servant Mordred, now a knight of Camelot, of whom Ganieda, as well as Merlin, is deeply suspicious.
1. By Way of Introduction

_This story is the sequel to _Her Insatiable Thirst_. A brief summary of this story follows, but please do read the whole thing if you have the chance._

When I set off to the northern lands I had no idea quite what I would find. All that I knew was that I must go, for I had been called. It was no ordinary calling, and was one that I had to answer at any cost: for from a far-off place I could sense the presence of a dragon.

I had never felt the mind of a dragon before, but I knew intuitively what it must be: for it was a grand and immeasurable consciousness, though it had been stinted somewhat by some outside force; and the emotions that emanated from the being were too powerful to ignore. Sadness and misery and helplessness filled my mind, feelings poured in by this poor creature; I tried to address it, but it had no power of speech, save to tell me a name that it had heard somewhere. The sensation was irresistible, and I knew myself to be the only person who knew about it. And so I set off in the direction of the plea.

Me, Ganieda, the stepdaughter of a farmer, who had never ventured more than a few miles from my village! It would be a great and dangerous journey, and yet a sensation in my mind, the persuasion of a distant creature had forced me, willed me to set out into the unknown, and find it, and rescue it.

I came at great length to the Northern Plains, and there met the most terrific snowstorm: winter ravaged this place with a vengeance, covering everything with a block of white several feet deep in places, rendering the landscape perilous and nigh on impassable.

And yet I continued, and came at last to the fortress at Idirsholas, almost delirious with the effect of the cold, struggling, shivering. And I looked upon the fortress, and felt utterly hopeless: had my mission been for nothing.

It was a towering citadel, spiked, black, foreboding. It was like a sheet of ice in itself. I approached it, and there had to dodge a good many patrols before being detected by whoever it was who resided in the fortress; and I let them take me, for I could no longer move, such was the cold.

And I was brought then before none other than the High Priestess Morgana.

I knew little of Morgana save that she was a great and terrible sorceress, but I had believed her to be dead, for such was the rumour. Yet here she was, and I was her prisoner. Fighting against her would be useless.

She questioned me; I did not answer. And then she asked: 'Where is Emrys?'

The name was familiar to me: it was the name that the dragon had spoken. But I did not want to reveal that I knew about the dragon, for it was here and I wanted to save it without her knowledge. Morgana was adamant however to find out about this Emrys, who, I suspected, was the owner of the dragon, or a Dragonlord, or something akin to that. And thus I did not betray this man about whom I did not truly know; I preferred to die than to give up any morsel of information. I did not know the intentions of Morgana.

She tortured me; she brought me close to death, and I would happily have sunk into that abyss. Yet I did not, and instead came to myself deep below the citadel: and there I came by the dragon, whose name was Aithusa.

But in rescuing the dragon, or trying to, I discovered that the poor creature had been turned to Morgana's will, and so he betrayed me.

The next time I awoke I was back beneath the castle; but here I came by a creature known as the Diamair, who saved me and kept me safe from Morgana and her forces. After some time kept below the castle in this strange sanctuary I was saved by the men of Camelot, who had stormed the citadel in the hope of saving their own knights; and thus I was taken back with them, for I myself came from Albion and would have taken the same road.

Among these men was the servant of King Arthur, whose name was Merlin. He was a good-looking young lad, with a cheeky grin and unruly hair, but he hid beneath this bumbling exterior a good many great secrets. Firstly, that he had magic. Secondly, that he was a Dragonlord.

This second point was to me the more important: for I had been told that I myself was the daughter of a Dragonlord, who had fallen in love with my mother, but had to leave the village before I was born. His name was Balinor: and he was also the father of Merlin.

Merlin was younger than me: a couple of years, perhaps. His birth had come from a liaison between Balinor and Merlin's mother Hunith when Balinor had been driven out of Camelot not long after my own birth. Thus we were half-siblings.

I had grown up as an only child, and with no other children of a similar age, and so it was something of a surprise and a delight to meet Merlin, my half-brother. I would go back to Camelot with him; we would catch up on each other's doings; we would spend as much time together as possible. Such was our plan, and thus I came to Camelot with the King's men, and decided that I would stay there for a short while at the least.


	2. Arrival in Camelot

I had never been to Camelot, but I knew it to be quite the grandest and most beautiful of cities, perhaps the greatest in all the world. Or so it was said in tales and sung by bards; I had no reason to doubt the tales when I first beheld that city about which I had heard so much.

It was walled, and the walls surrounded a towering white citadel, pure and shining in its coloration; and the rays of the dying Sun caused part of the castle wall to glow orange - a burning, warm orange. Upon the many turrets of the castle were roofs of a rich, royal blue. I marvelled at the sight, so much so that I had to be called from my daydream. Never had I seen such majesty - and yet such, such... well, welcomeness: I can think of no other way in which to describe it. The city had a friendly and wonderful air, and because of that alone I was immensely happy.

'So this is Camelot,' I said in an undertone to Merlin - my brother, of course, who was riding in front of me and a pace behind the King of Camelot himself.

'Yes. Have you not been before?'

'I have never been near,' I replied. 'Tunyncel is a good way from the city, and I rarely strayed beyond the village.'

'I remember when I saw Camelot for the first time,' Merlin said. 'Actually, I thought it a little too busy and big. But I quickly came to love it.'

We drew nearer to the gates now, and the horses seemed to walk more quickly as we cleared the distance. A crowd of people had beaten us to the gates: traders, visitors, homecomers, all trying to get in before night fell. But when the people saw that Arthur was at the head of our party they soon parted, letting us through, watching us with awe in their eyes or bowing so that they did not turn their faces to us. I had never felt so important, so high up.

And thus we entered into the city, and therein I beheld my new home, for a short while at the least. At the end of the street up which we rode was the entrance to the castle itself: a series of steps at the end of the market square leading to an ever-open door that measured perhaps ten feet from ground to frame. The masonry around the doorframe was simple and yet grandiose, for it was crafted entirely out of the same white rock that composed the walls and turrets, and which seemed to match perfectly the regal status of the building.

We jumped from our horses in the wide quadrangle that lay in front of the steps; and many servants came scurrying out to attend to the horses. Merlin being a servant of the castle, he immediately went to Arthur to take his outer armour and see to his steed. I followed, dithering a little in this new place, unsure of what to do now and not really knowing anyone. Merlin beamed as I helped him take the armour from the horse's back; I expect that none had ever assisted him before.

'Thanks, Ganieda,' he said gratefully, leading the horse off to the stables. I went with him, looking around me as I went, taking in the extension of the royal residence.

When we had finished there we headed back up to the castle together; and quite a few people stared at me, for I was a newcomer. Being with Merlin probably helped, though, for they recognised him and greeted him cheerfully.

'I hope Arthur's finished with me,' said Merlin. 'You should probably meet Gaius.'

'Gaius?'

'The court physician. I live with him.'

'Ah, yes. You mentioned him, I think.'

And so we navigated the white-walled corridors, winding deeper into the bowels of the castle, until we came to a wooden door upon which was the legend: "Court Physician". I hesitated outside, wondering if this would be my home for the next - well, however long I came to stay here. I rather hoped I could remember the way from outside.

Just then Merlin opened the door, and we went inside. There at the table was an old man - though with a remarkably bright eye for a man of his age. He looked up at our entrance from an array of bottles and chemicals that were lined up on his desk. The row of glass naturally drew the eye o the rest of the room - a marvellous, ramshackle collection of oddments: more bottles, chemicals, potions, lined up on shelves, all labelled in a minuscule italic script; more books than I had seen in my life, heaped up on complaining bookcases and improvised planks of wood screwed to the walls; the tables supported more of both, as well as cauldrons, instruments I didn't recognise, even a brass globe showing a rather basic map of the known world; and hanging from the roof and the various rafters were herbs of all descriptions - dried and a little musty, or fresh and lending the room a wonderfully mysterious scent.

'Hullo, Gaius,' said Merlin cheerily.

Gaius was about to greet him when he noticed me. 'Who's this?'

'I'm Ganieda,' I said quickly.

'Apparently my half-sister,' Merlin added; and the expression on Gaius's face, already a little bemused, became so comical that we both burst out laughing.


	3. Mordred

Gaius was an excellent host: I soon found him to be friendly and kind with an unexpected sense of humour. He was not, however, a terribly good cook, which I could not bring myself to mention but which I got round by offering to make breakfast the following morning. Merlin grinned at me, out of sight of Gaius, when I said this; I guessed that he hadn't thought of that. No harm comes in making yourself helpful, I reflected.

The next day Merlin had to assist Arthur, being his manservant, and so he left early and straight after breakfast. He said as he was going that I should find someone to take me on a bit of a tour of the castle; I shook my head, as I did not know anyone, and said that I would find my own way round.

I soon found the castle to be something of a labyrinth. Corridors led in every direction, twisting and turning; sometimes wide, well-lit and a show of wealth, with tapestries and vaulted ceilings; sometimes barely narrow enough for two to walk abreast, and lit only with a sputtering torch. This contrast created something of an adventure even within the castle walls; I wondered if I would ever find time to explore the rest of the city.

When I had walked all that I could of the accessible parts of the castle, I returned along the corridor that ran past the Great Hall, peering in through a keyhole but finding it empty; I retreated, but just as I determined to walk away I bumped into somebody coming the other way.

'Sorry,' I said automatically; then I looked up and found it to be none other than Mordred.

There was a very uneasy silence. I felt my heart begin to race with apprehension; I could not divine his thoughts. Then he spoke, his voice trembling a little: he was just as nervous as I was.

'So your name is Ganieda,' he said a bit too brightly.

'Yes.'

'...I'm... I'm sorry for what happened. At Ismir... Morgana... I couldn't stop her...' As the apology unfurled his voice became more stammery, and his eyes turned to the floor, his cheeks reddening slightly - an impressive contrast, as they were remarkably pale.

I felt a sensation of anger rise up in me. Mordred had stood and watched me being tortured - he had refused to do the deed himself, but he had stood there, making no objection, making no move to stop Morgana, not even blinking. I had hated him almost as much as Morgana then, for his loyalty to her was through cowardice - yes, he was a coward, the trait I disliked the most in anyone.

'You do realise that I cannot forgive you?' I asked with rather more authority than I meant to show.

'So be it.'

The three words were spoken as if sentences, with a pause between each one as if he was stabbing the air with them. His cheeks paled again; his lips became thinner even than before, curling inwards. I saw something spark in his eyes; I guessed that I should probably leave.

Therefore I pushed past him and walked off down the corridor; I glanced back to see whether he too had gone, but found him to be still watching me, staring at me as I walked out of sight.

* * *

><p>After this encounter with Mordred I headed down into the town, finding it to be market-day: the square that had been empty the day before was now packed with people, and gaily-coloured stalls surrounded me. The air was filled with chatter and bartering and the wonderful smell of meat and pies; it all seemed amazing to me, for I had seen nothing like it, being of a rural village.<p>

I grinned and went forwards into the crowds, ambling from stall to stall, having no money at the present time but viewing what would be available to me should I come into any; I saw stalls covered with jewellery, browsed through the stock of a cloth-merchant, was immensely tempted by the meat pies at one stall; but I could buy nothing, and so left empty-handed but refreshed by the merry atmosphere of the market.

I came back to the castle and entered; then I saw Merlin, and called out to him, wondering why he was alone.

'Arthur's sent me to clean the stables,' Merlin said with a look of cheerful disgust. 'He's preparing for this evening.'

He did not stop; I walked with him then so that we could continue the conversation.

'What's happening this evening?' I asked.

'Oh – don't you know?' Merlin looked surprised. 'Mordred's being knighted. We're all invited. There's going to be a feast beforehand...'

I cut him off mid-sentence. '_What?_'

'A feast. With food and music and things –'

'No. No! Mordred! Being knighted!' I could not hold back my emotion, the sudden rush of anger that consumed me.

'I know. It's a bit annoying.' Merlin looked more than a bit annoyed. 'But he saved Arthur's life in Ismir – and betrayed Morgana – in fact, we all owe our lives to him. So I suppose this was the natural consequence.'

'But Mordred! He's not even on our side!'

Merlin ushered me into the stables and closed the door so that we could continue talking without being overheard. 'No. I know. Well, he is for now. He seems fine, but... Ganieda, I don't agree with it either, but I don't know what to do.'

'What do _you_ have against him?' I asked out of curiosity more than anything: the cutting tone with which my brother spoke was from something greater than disliking Mordred on principle.

Here Merlin lowered his voice, leaning in closer to me. 'I saw a vision,' he explained. 'A scene... It was a battle. I saw Mordred – Arthur – I saw Mordred kill Arthur.' His eyes suddenly sparkled with tears. 'I don't know whether I'm just being silly, or... But it was a druid showed it to me, Ganieda, and... It felt real... True, I mean. I think it was a vision of the future. You don't think I'm silly, do you?'

I had drawn in a sharp gasp at his first sentence and now I let it out, my mind clouded with thoughts. 'Mordred killing _Arthur_? So he's a traitor?'

'I don't know!' cried Merlin in angst. 'I don't know what to believe. Mordred is fine – for now. And Arthur won't hear a word against him.'

My head span. 'Well, we should stop the vision coming true. Shouldn't we?'

'That's what I thought, too,' Merlin said. 'But –'

It was at that moment that the door opened and a head poked in. 'The stables don't look much cleaner, Merlin,' said the slightly cheeky voice of Gwaine, joking with his friend.

Merlin did not brighten. 'Sorry.'

'No, it's fine.' Gwaine looked confused. 'I just heard you chatting up a girl in the stable and I couldn't help interfering.' He smiled wryly. 'I'll leave you to it.'

Gwaine went, but our thread of conversation was lost. Merlin sighed. 'I should be working. Sorry, Ganieda. I'll talk to you later.'

I nodded and left.


	4. A Banquet, and what happened after

There was indeed a feast that evening. I managed to borrow a dress from none other than Arthur's beautiful wife herself, Queen Guinevere, for she had heard my story and took pity on me having no belongings in Camelot. Thus was I somewhat envied by the other people at the feast, which I didn't find a bad thing.

It was a grand banquet, with tables set up in the centre of one of the halls to seat perhaps a hundred guests. Servants came and went behind us, bringing drinks and nibbles, filling jugs and glasses, attending to all of the diners – and Merlin was among them, which I could not help but find slightly amusing as he waited on me with a mock-grimace on his face.

As we ate we were entertained by the virtuoso musicianship of the castle's Court Musician, who sat to one side of the table, directly behind me. I was surprised to find that this prestigious post was held by a girl not much older than me, who barely registered the people as her fingers flew over first the lyre, then a tall harp, then the flute, playing attractive and likeable melodies, the likes of which I had seldom heard before.

I found myself feeling entirely at home, made joyful by the music, satisfied by the food, slightly merry (admittedly) by the wine – but I happened to glance every so often at the head table and a pang of some dark emotion would pierce my heart as I looked upon the face of Mordred.

The young man sat in a position of honour beside Arthur, talking when spoken to, and cheerfully enough; his thin face was half lit up, but retained some of the pallor that always seemed to reside in him. Nevertheless, he too looked at home, and I did not know what to feel.

The King and Queen were resplendent in their best dress, their crowns glinting atop their heads; and the nobles of Camelot and the knights occupied the next seats, the ranks descending as the tables spread outwards, with the ordinary folks like me and Gaius finding ourselves near to the doors. But I did not mind this arrangement at all, since that being at the feast was all that mattered. But even if I was glad to be there, the meaning for the banquet did not please me at all.

After the banquet came the ceremony I had been dreading: Mordred's knighting. We all gathered in the hall: knights at the front, a sea of scarlet robes; castle-folk and townspeople behind, all silent and somewhat reverent; and King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were at the very front, presiding over the hall, their keen gazes looking over everyone before resting on Mordred.

The young man had his back to us but I could see in my mind the half-smile which he must surely have been wearing: that thin-lipped suggestion of happiness that never reached his eyes. I found myself scowling and had to hide this, for every so often Gaius, who was standing beside me, would glance in my direction; he did not know of my hatred for Mordred, but I wondered if he had guessed.

And the King took up his sword and tapped Mordred's shoulders, first his left, then his right, and pronounced: 'Arise, Sir Mordred, Knight of Camelot.'

He stood and turned, and I was surprised to see a true smile on his face. He was handsome in his joy; I cursed myself for thinking this, but I could not help it. The applause that rang out was tumultuous, though none cheered, for few knew him personally. I knew however that the story of how he had saved Arthur would spread quickly, and win him great popularity in the town. Soon Merlin and I would be unique in our dislike of the man; I grimaced at this thought.

And thus was the evening's ceremony over. We filed from the hall, and I looked for Merlin, but my brother was still in Arthur's service for a few minutes more at least. So I went back to the Court Physician's quarters, ambling a little, thinking over what I had seen.

It pained me to admit that Mordred seemed truly rooted on our side. He was a Knight of Camelot! and he did not seem to rue that, either, for he seemed to admire the King and all that Albion stood for. For now at least.

And I walked heavily into the quarters, stopping before the table, my head bowed, deep in thought. I knew that I could never forgive Mordred, but disliking him actively or even noticeably would surely be an unwise move. What could I do? Would I have to keep this hatred deep in my heart, to prick me every time I looked upon Mordred, but never to emerge?


	5. The Court Musician

The next morning Merlin and I were walking to Arthur's chambers together when Merlin asked me whether I was going to get a job whilst in Camelot. I started at this, and inquired as to whether that was a requirement of me.

'No, of course not,' said Merlin smiling, 'but, you know, money comes in useful sometimes.' He did not give any other reasons, but I knew what he wanted to say: I myself had thought of it. I couldn't really exploit Gaius as a host without being able to give him something back, or at least manage under my own steam. Merlin was of course employed, and brought in money to the little household, but now that there were three of us we might need a bit more support.

'Well, I don't know how long I'm staying,' I began lamely: lamely, because I had already sent off a letter to my stepmother saying that I might stay a while, even permanently, with by half-brother.

Merlin ignored my excuse. 'What d'you fancy doing?'

I shrugged.

'Well, what are you good at?'

I shrugged again, my eyes widening slightly. 'Farming... That's about it. I was going to inherit the farm.'

Merlin looked rather perplexed. 'But there must be something. Are you musical? You could see if Juliana would take you on... or... there's Geoffrey in the Hall of Records; he might want an apprentice.'

'I can't read,' I said in a very small voice. 'Not very well.'

Merlin looked surprised but said nothing to this. 'Or you could be a servant,' he finished, just as we came to the door of Arthur's room. 'Well, have a think about it. I'll see you this afternoon.'

I really didn't fancy being a servant, of course, but that was what most people of my standing ended up as in the castle, as far as I could see. I could hardly read, so the Hall of Records was out of the question. But music... I was no virtuoso, and definitely nothing to match Juliana, if she was the girl I'd seen last night, but I could pluck out a few things on a lyre and I'd spent a lot of my childhood playing a little wooden flute my stepfather had made me. Therefore I resolved to find Juliana's quarters and see if she could teach me enough to let me be by her side.

* * *

><p>I spent quite a long time winding my way along the corridors before deciding that asking for directions would be a good plan, and in this way finding that Juliana in fact lived quite near to Gaius's quarters. So I came to the door and knocked; a moment later a curiously accented voice called, 'Come in.'<p>

I went in, and found myself in a reasonably-sized room, airy, cool, with a fairly large window lending a good deal of light to the place. A bed was in the middle, and by the window there was a desk, upon which were several sheets of paper and an inkwell with an enormous quill beside it. The centrepiece of the room was a beautiful harp, and at the harp sat the girl I had seen. She looked up at my entrance, her eyes twinkling.

'Ah, you must be Ganieda.'

I nodded, wondering where her accent was from but hardly daring to ask.

'I'm Juliana.'

I acknowledged this with a nod. An awkward silence followed; she did not know why I was there and I had not told her.

'Well?'

'I... Merlin told me to come and find you. He said I needed a job whilst I'm in Camelot, and, well, I'm not much good at anything much, so...'

'But you fancy yourself as a musician, yes?' Her eyes sparkled and I at once warmed to her. 'It is not an easy job, I must tell you.'

'I hoped to learn first,' I replied.

'Good. Then I shall teach you. Have you time now?' I nodded. 'Sit down then, sit down! I shall teach you the harp. The harp is popular. Everyone likes a harpist. Now, firstly...'

And thus I took my first lesson in music, which, like most first lessons in music, didn't go all that well; but at the same time I was glad to find something I could do other than plough and harvest.

* * *

><p>I told Merlin about my modest success in the evening. Gaius too showed his favour in this decision, though I did not like to admit that it might be a while before I was paid for anything. Nevertheless, I enjoyed music well enough, and even moderate musicians get paid princely sums – Juliana's quarters showed that, for though they were not lavish they had smelled of rich foods and saffron, and her clothes were rather fancy, and her quill was simply magnificent. Then again, she really was a brilliant musician.<p>

Still, I was happy that I had found something to occupy myself with whilst in Camelot – something that, I hoped, might even let me forget Morgana and the horrors I had suffered at her hand, and the hatred I felt for her servant Mordred.


	6. A Letter

Juliana and I quickly became friends, and this helped my learning immensely, though I did begin to fear that music would always for me be merely a hobby. I enjoyed my lessons, however, which were interspersed with diverse conversation – about our friends, our passions, gossip from Camelot (of which Juliana seemed to know a great deal for one so independent from the other citizens).

It was not long before the subject matter came to the knights – and Mordred in particular. I had happened to mention the banquet that had taken place and asked about the piece she was playing; she said that she had made it up herself, and that it was dedicated to Mordred.

'Do you like Mordred then?' I asked, trying to hide what I thought.

'I don't really know him,' she admitted. 'But everyone says he's nice enough – and a lot of the ladies think he's handsome...' She laughed. 'But I shouldn't talk about someone I've never met.' She paused, and her eyes flashed towards mine, discerning something in my face. 'Why? Don't you like him?'

I shrugged, not committing myself to an answer. 'I – he was Morgana's servant before, and... well, I just don't feel as if I can trust him. I don't dislike him,' I lied quickly, 'but...'

'Ah, but of course, you were taken by Morgana and you would not trust those who worked for her,' Juliana said, summing up what I thought. 'That is understandable.'

'I hope so,' I replied. 'I fear I'm in the minority. And anyway, my... my mistrust isn't even justified, because Mordred has done nothing to me.' _Except mentally_, I found myself thinking.

'No,' replied Juliana. 'Not really. Well, it doesn't matter, at any rate. Not to music.' Juliana thought of music above all else, and it seemed to me that if something didn't matter to music it didn't matter at all. Such was the mind of this young musician. 'Anyway – might you sing? I have not heard your voice yet. Sing something for me!'

* * *

><p>I did not come across Mordred all that much in Camelot. He did not avoid me, and I did not consciously avoid him, but our separate lives meant that our paths almost never crossed. This satisfied me; and I began to keep him from my mind at long last, distracted as I was by my music lessons and by the companionship I shared with Merlin and with my new friend Juliana. It is better, far better, to have friends than enemies, and I was not truly one to hold a grudge against anyone.<p>

But coming back to Gaius's quarters one evening I found on my bed a single flower – a snowdrop, one of the first – with a piece of paper tied to it. I could recognise my own name at least, and knew that to be the addressee; but I could not read any more of the letter upon the paper, and so, rather embarrassed, I had to take it to Merlin to ask if he might read it to me.

Merlin took the letter from me; I did not tell him about the flower, which I had hidden for the moment until I knew its meaning. He unfolded the paper; he skimmed down it, and his eyes widened. 'Good Lord, Ganieda!'

'What?' I cried, craning my neck over his shoulder even though that would not help.

He sat down with a bump on his own bed, his forehead creased, and read thus:

_Ganieda, perhaps you do not accept my apology, but it is true, it is more than true, and you must believe me. I am afraid of Morgana, I have always been afraid of Morgana, and I wish more than ever that I could have stopped her but I could not. Call me a coward if you like. It can change nothing now._

_But, Ganieda – Ganieda, it pained me more than anything to see your face when Morgana – I had to hide all emotion I felt, that is why I perhaps appeared blank to you, unemotional, uncaring maybe. Because I liked you, Ganieda – I knew when I saw you that I liked you, because you are pretty and because your face has known many smiles, and because you were brave enough to defy Morgana, which is incredibly admirable._

_Can you like me, Ganieda? Can you? We do not have to be friends, but I do not like to see the hatred in your face, to see the fear that darts across your eyes when they meet mine. I am on your side. We do not have to hate each other –but I have never hated you, not ever, so why can you not return that favour, and, like the snowdrop, rise out of the ice that seems to cover your heart?_

_Mordred_

And I felt my vision blur a moment, my head spin. I did not want to accept that I was in the wrong – that – no, I did not know what to think. Merlin did not speak; he merely let the words of the letter hang in the air, and I did not feel any better for having heard them.


End file.
